Intertwine
by rividori
Summary: From the first time to something unexpected. Various stories. House/Wilson. Pre-slash and slash.
1. First Time

_A/N: I'm using prompts from the LiveJournal Community: 13drabbles. These are from the Alpha and Delta set. _

* * *

He must have had some new found nerve to lean in so slowly, and with such meaning.

To assume, perhaps, that he'd be paralysed by the closeness of those blue eyes. So close, in fact, that he couldn't even look, his gaze dropping to his mouth instead.

And tingling erupts from where that hand touches his face; surreal pleasure running up his neck to the very roots of his hair. His eyes flicker upward again.

Thumb traces his cheek; sincere, deliberate movements.

The air around him folds over onto itself, and he becomes acutely aware of his heart pounding inside his chest.

He watches those eyes closing shut in full anticipation, as House moves to close the distance entirely.

And when it happened, when the pressure and feel of his lips were on his own, Wilson just did what felt right. He let his hands feel their way, as he closed his eyes, and opened his mouth.


	2. Dreams

In the comfortable silence of House's office, Wilson is free to watch for a moment, carefully regarding him.

It was playing on his mind continuously: how best to start the conversation he wants, the possible reactions.

All the while, it wouldn't leave him. The reason why he couldn't look him in the eye on some mornings and by the end of the day was almost daring him to read his mind.

His thoughts drift and he looks to House's hand; the fingers folding the edge of the lunch wrapper in front of him.

It was fast becoming a secret too good to keep. Perhaps because of the sheer vividness or the fact that he was strangely empowered by the knowledge that he would get his attention immediately.

He looks up again at House who is looking out over his office, daydreaming. Probably lost in thoughts about his current case as he chews slowly on his sandwich – Wilson's sandwich.

And Wilson wants to shock, wants to catch him off-guard.

He breaks the silence, confessing, "I had a dream about you last night."

There. Exactly the kind of bold statement that House would relish.

House freezes mid-chew, turns his head slowly, eyes refocusing on him, and swallows.

Wilson feels something building here. Something thrilling.

But he gives nothing away as he watches him. Waiting.

And it is little surprise to him that House tries to match his level of bluntness as, after a pause, comes his smooth reply, "Was I good?"


	3. Song

It's one of those nights when he decides that the answers to all his questions lie at the bottom of a glass.

Perhaps if he were more clear-headed he wouldn't have misinterpreted those caring hands.

And maybe he would have processed the thought that Wilson was here with him now, and not because he felt it was his obligation.

He also may have understood the words Wilson spoke; laced with worry, concern, but above all, desperation. Questioning not why he does this to himself but why he does this to _him._

He talks fast, and Wilson's voice hums in his head, almost like a song.

He just doesn't realise that these words don't come from pity or annoyance, but from hurt, and the kind of love that's needed to bring about such hurt.


	4. Sunsets Sunrises

_House/Wilson, established relationship._

* * *

It was one of those nights; a bad night. House couldn't keep still, the pain too much, and Wilson had followed him around the apartment as he tried to walk away the discomfort, distract himself somehow when pills just didn't work.

House had turned abruptly into the kitchen, grabbed the counter, hand shooting out to his leg, biting his lip, face contorted in agony. Wilson had tried to reach out to him, go lie down now, you'll feel better, can't I get you something?

But House hadn't wanted that, didn't want any of it. He moved away from him, lashing out with a few choice words, yelling at him to leave him the hell alone. He wasn't above pushing the plate that was on the counter to the floor, either. The crash of it aggravating the situation, making Wilson angry that he wouldn't let him help, angry that he wouldn't help himself, angry that House's pain seemed to leach into him somehow. And Wilson had had to ask, in all honesty, what do you want from me?

And House had laughed then, bitter and sad. Wilson supposed that after all the tears and pain, that was all that was left. This didn't console him though. And it certainly didn't answer the question.

House had left for work early; Wilson hadn't even heard him moving around. He just woke to the quiet, the cold sheets beside him - the aftermath.

He didn't see him at lunch. If House didn't want to be found then there was nothing Wilson could do about it. Plus Wilson had to _want_ to find him. He justified it as giving him space. Truthfully though, he was hurting. But in the end, his need to make sure everything was still okay won out.

Wilson found him in the early evening, leaning against the dividing wall of his office balcony. House looked over to him as he stepped outside.

Wilson stood with his hands in his pockets, and turned his face to the cooling summer breeze. He was well aware that House was still watching him, waiting for Wilson to come back to him.

Wilson looked down at his feet as he turned towards him, looking up again to see House shifting his weight. He stopped before him, placed his hand on his leg just briefly, travelling up to his waist, then dropping away.

"Sometimes… it just paralyses…" House said; voice tense. Wilson looked into his eyes. Sadly, he knew all too well. He also knew this was House trying to apologise, trying to help him understand. Wilson nodded.

House bowed his head and Wilson watched as he reached a hand out to him slowly, taking his shirt, sliding the material between his fingers.

He spoke softly, "All I want is you." He looked up at him then, imploring.

Wilson knew the depth of House's feelings but it always surprised him when he saw that depth. It left him speechless.

"Am I – " House paused, looking down again, staring resolutely at Wilson's shirt, letting his hand fall to his side again. The moment dragged before Wilson heard him take a breath, "Is it worth it?"

Wilson stared, his heart strained.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, finding House looking at him when he opened them again.

He exhaled in a rush of exasperation and relief, shaking his head with a small smile.

He leaned in and kissed him.

His answer.


	5. Make Believe

A/N: Season 6 spoilers up to 'Open and Shut.'

* * *

House comes home and Wilson is there, and everything begins to settle. He still treads on some shaky ground but he easily slips into a comfortable existence with his best friend.

In some ways he misses the hospital. He misses the puzzles, the distractions. In a lot of other ways he likes just being here, and knowing that Wilson is still here for him. He could get used to this, he thinks. Seems simple. He could probably do with simple. Except that things are never as they seem. The pain from two years ago is still present, and all too fresh in his mind for his liking. Probably best to take a step back.

Cuddy has always been a possibility, and Wilson's insistence eventually urges him into action. Wilson's always known what was best for him. At least that was how it seemed from where he stood. Wilson would never intentionally hurt him. But all it accomplishes in doing is bringing up all the reasons why distancing himself from her had been the right thing to do in the first place.

It's never been easy being emotionally intimate with people. Another lesson learned.

The affirmation that Wilson thinks of him as a good friend makes him feel that little bit appreciated.

That he can do the things he does and still have Wilson see them for what they really are. By now, it's the best way he knows how to show that he cares.

_If you die, I'm alone_. He thought he'd given it away right there and then. Wilson would see right through him now. Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. The next thing he knows, Wilson is offering him something else entirely. Suddenly it goes from 'living at Wilson's' to 'living with Wilson.'

Wilson asks him to marry him. Something he's definitely never considered. Unexpected is an understatement.

The moment is over in an instant and he's looking at him over the rim of his glass, wondering about the lengths Wilson would go to and the exact reasoning behind them.

He loses count of the shared meals, the nights on the couch, the walks across the hospital lobby; going home together. And Wilson was still capable of surprising him. None more so than the gift Wilson gives him. Sitting before it, pressing the keys; he treats it as such. It says to him: forever.

Now another one comes along to threaten all that he knows.

He's back in the same position. Looked over, passed up.

House comes home and Wilson is there. She's there now too.

He moves past them, walking to his room. His leg aches; a sharp searing pain with every second step.

It had become tiring continuously waiting for Wilson to open his arms, which looked less and less likely of ever happening.

He supposes he could just ask. Just say something. But it's always been hard. So incredibly hard.

Inside his room he leans his cane against the wall and, without bothering to remove his jacket, rolls onto the bed.

He lies there; arms outstretched either side of him, staring up at the ceiling.

Nothing hurts more than the truth.


	6. Difference Similarity

A/N: Post 6x15 'Black Hole.'

* * *

It was nearing daybreak and Wilson was lying warm and comfortable on his side, watching House, the steady rise and fall of his chest, his head tucked downward, facing him.

In sleep he looked contented, no longer the restless thing he'd been hours ago.

Heat and skin, his voice and blue eyes, all blurred in his mind.

He'd been awake for a while now just thinking about it. Thinking about all the times when he'd looked at House and seen only a friend, and when he'd looked again and wondered what it would be like if they were more than that.

It scared him at first. He didn't trust the feeling. He'd argued with himself, convinced that he'd never thought that before so why should he think it now? What had changed? Since when did this man mean so much more to him? Since when did loving him also come with such an attraction?

These feelings had seeped into him and they were holding on, not letting go.

Somewhere along the line he'd fallen for his best friend.

And they were living together. How was he going to hide this? Perspective was better from a distance so he took a step back to sort through his feelings. From here he could also study the way House behaved around him, all the things he said and did. Soon he didn't know what was real and what was meaningless. After his surgery though, he realised that none of it was meaningless. If he went to him there would be a very strong chance that House would accept him without question.

So he sat on this revelation, wondering what to do with it.

In his attempt to start something, he suggested House move his piano in. Just because he disguised it in an argument about dining etiquette didn't mean the suggestion wasn't there. Then he went one step further, buying something specifically for him. For them. The smile House had given him made him think that he couldn't be wrong, but he wasn't about to underestimate how fear can hold a person back. He'd lived it after all.

No, it was not enough to meet House half way, he realised.

So he crossed his fingers and overstepped that invisible line. And he couldn't say he regretted where they'd ended up, even though he'd been worried. He'd been this happy before when starting a new relationship and eventually it always ended the same way. His life was full but never complete. Looking back on it now, he could easily say that he hadn't recognised half the times when House had been the only one that actually made him feel good.

This time it would be different. He really wanted this to last. Better yet, he wanted this to continue to last. The friendship and the love, and everything in between. Every single thing that had kept them together over the years. Sex would just be another one of those things.

Wilson rolled away from House, quietly getting up and walking to the bathroom.

As he looked in the mirror, he rubbed the back of his head. It was still a little sore from his encounter with the wall out in the hallway. It hadn't bothered him at the time; too preoccupied with where House's hands were going. He turned away from his smiling reflection, and made his way back through the bedroom, seeing that House had shifted, his arm outstretched, sheets hanging off the side of the bed.

Wilson moved past him on his way through the loft. He entered the kitchen, stooping down to pick up the cane as he did, and placed it against the counter for House. He yawned, running a hand through his hair as he looked in the fridge, considering breakfast. Maybe pancakes, he thought, closing the fridge door and heading to the pantry.

He heard footsteps from behind and he turned to see House looking around before his eyes settled on Wilson. House moved around to him, with the smallest of secretive smiles. Wilson smiled as well. House touched his hand.

"Morning," Wilson said. House squinted, shaking his head. He moved in closer, placing his arms around him.

"Too early," he mumbled. "You're up too early."

House ran a hand down his back and it was then that Wilson knew he wouldn't want to live without this.

"Well," he began, "I was going to start breakfast but if you'd prefer to go back to bed..."

House breathed in his ear, amused. "I have easy influence over you. Good to know," he said, "what are you making?"

"Your favorite."

House looked Wilson in the eye, "Now you've given me a choice."

"So what will it be?"

"Pancakes first," he said, grinning, as he went around and sat himself on the stool across from him.

Wilson glanced at him. "I'll have you know that this will be a one-off."

House smirked. "No, you should come on to me more often."

"I was talking about making pancakes for breakfast."

"Oh," House eyed him thoughtfully. "No it won't be."

He couldn't argue with that kind of confidence. Wilson laughed.

He felt good about this, trusting that this was going to be the best thing that ever happened to them.


	7. Eyes

Sitting opposite House had been the second mistake.

The first was thinking it was a good idea for House to join him at this conference.

From across the table he could sense House looking at him.

He pointedly ignored it, though it was easier said than done. He tried focusing on the conversation around him, but ultimately his interest drifted back to House.

House, who was watching him, slowly looking him over and meeting him with a level stare.

It was a _look_. Wilson had been on the receiving end of those kinds of looks before. Only, to see it there on House's face became a little too much, and Wilson turned away.

It had him wondering why it was like this. Why House had been… _flirting_ with him the entire time they'd been here, only to pretend later on like it didn't happen. The distance, it seemed, offered some kind of safety. It was a game from far away. And House got away with it because Wilson never said anything.

Still, House was giving him the kind of attention that he would normally follow up with over a drink at the bar, to see where such a look might lead. And given that they already knew each other, things might unfold a little differently. Perhaps he'd even skip the drink.

House's hotel room was right next door to his. If House wanted to continue playing ignorant, then Wilson would just have to make it perfectly clear that he wasn't knocking on his door for anything other than him.

His mind wandered to the inevitable conclusion.

Wilson looked at him again, certain that he'd find him just loving every minute of this. He caught the faintest trace of a smile as House brought his drink to his mouth, before taking a sip. He put the glass back down, the last of his amusement written in the way he looked at him, the way he smiled.

Wilson shifted in his seat. His fingers burned.

He was suddenly restless with the inexplicable urge to move, to stand up, to get as far away from this table and as close to the man in front of him as possible.

And then... House got up. Deftly taking his cane in hand, he walked away, to the puzzled looks of the rest of the table. And Wilson sat for a moment, in consideration, watching him leave.

He wouldn't get away with it this time.


	8. Unexpected

Wilson walked towards House's office with an air of confidence that came with knowing that, sooner or later, he'd get what he wanted, whatever that may be.

He held the dark blue folder in one hand as he opened the office door. House looked up at him when he entered. He put his pen down, leaning back in his chair, and took out the lollipop that was in his mouth.

"Wilson." He inclined his head, twirling the little white stick between his fingers.

"Got a case I'd like you to look at." Wilson said by way of greeting, and he let the file drop onto House's desk.

House pulled his chair in again, and peered at it. "Another cousin?"

"Distant." Wilson replied with a smile. "If you look at –"

House held up a hand. "Yeah, yeah. I get it. One of these things just doesn't belong. And you came to me for help."

"Naturally. So… you're going to look into it?"

"Well you know I'd _love_ to help… haven't decided yet."

"House. Be serious. This is a legitimate referral."

House shrugged, "I'm just playing hard to get."

"Right. And good things come to those who wait."

He leaned back in his chair, casually popping the lollipop back in his mouth and spoke around it. "If you're lucky."

Wilson stared him down for a moment then approached the desk and took back the folder. "I don't have time for this," he said, and turned to leave. He slowed to a stop when he heard the loud sigh from behind him. Wilson looked back and saw House staring off to the side as he motioned with his hand for Wilson to come back with the file. Wilson tried not to smile to himself as he walked the short distance back to House who took the folder from him.

"Man, I'm good to you," House said, looking at him again.

"Thank you."

Wilson allowed himself the smile he'd been holding back and House didn't take his eyes from him. Then, without so much as a second thought, Wilson reached for the white stick of the lollipop that was resting on House's lips. He's met with resistance at first, as House clenches his teeth but Wilson doesn't let go and then he's slowly allowed to slip the lollipop from his mouth. He takes a step back and watches his friend's lips gently parting in awe, making very sure that House sees him put the lollipop in his mouth. As Wilson heads out of the office, he closes his eyes briefly, savouring the cherry taste.


End file.
